A single light sat illuminated the otherwise implacably black office of Aegon Targaryen. The dim rays of golden-tinted light revealed an individual, sat closely to a large desk, eyes focused on a single datapad. At random intervals, the vacuum-like silence of the room would be penetrated by several vicious taps on the datapad screen -- otherwise, the only sound in the room was Aegon's voice, reading under his breath. Expectedly, the voice trailed off, and Targaryen carefully set the datapad down onto the table. A pen in his right hand tapped an irritable cadence on the marble desk.

As quickly as it had begun, the tapping stopped. With a last glance at the datapad, Aegon Targaryen stood up. He tapped quickly onto a remote, and the blinds drew, casting the light of a bustling nighttime Coruscant into Aegon's study. He frowned while gazing into the city, head still full of battle strategies and equations and numbers. Closing his eyes, he nodded, took several steps away from the window onto a holopad, and tapped furiously into the console.